TIME: Between a Hi and a Goodbye

                          TIME: Between a Hi and a Goodbye

AI Generated

It was one of those days—quiet, reflective, and somewhat blank. You sit, fingers poised above the keyboard, waiting for inspiration to strike, but your mind feels like a paused clock. Ideas that once flowed freely now seem to have taken a long vacation.

And when that happens, there's only one place I turn to: my archive of old thoughts, scribbles, half-written poems, and emotional outbursts frozen in words. On this particular day, I found something special—something I wrote back in 2013.

It was raw, hesitant, and deeply personal. At that time, I was unsure whether to even share it. The introvert in me whispered, “Why risk the judgment?” The perfectionist in me muttered, “It’s not good enough.” And the self-doubter asked, “Who’ll even read this?”

But another voice—one that has grown louder over the years—answered, “Why not?”

If someone reads it and smiles, isn’t that worth it?
If someone sees their own reflection in my words, haven’t I connected?
If I am not here one day, and these words remain, won’t they keep me alive in a way?

So here it is. The poem I wrote on an ordinary workday in 2013, when I dared to be different for a moment:

TIME

TIME to say HI
TIME to say GOODBYE
TIME we live in between HI to BYE
is just a TIME… that goes like a blink of an EYE.

TIME we came to the earth,
Till the TIME we stand by our own,
TIME we stand to walk, till we run full grown.

TIME we cross teenage to reach Adulthood,
TIME we grow, still searching for “what is good?”

TIME we pause and think…
“What have I achieved?”
“What have I made?”
“What should I have done?”

TIME and AGAIN, the “WHAT I” questions return...
And by the TIME “WHAT I” finds answers,
TIME whispers — “Your TIME is up… Please pack, and move on.”

GOODBYE...

TIME moves on.
TIME moves on...
But the “I”… is gone.

The Meaning Behind the Poem

At first glance, you may ask — Why so much about TIME? Why so repetitive? What is this really about?

Let me explain.

This poem is a metaphor for life. A life that begins with a simple “Hi” — the cry of a newborn. It then travels through milestones: walking, talking, playing, learning, failing, winning, loving, grieving… until one day, it ends with a “Goodbye.”

Everything we experience — childhood innocence, teenage rebellion, adult responsibilities — it all happens in the short blink that is life. Think of it: in the cosmic calendar, our entire life is less than a heartbeat. So what truly matters?

Not money. Not medals. Not promotions.
But memories. And moments. And meaning.

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“What Have I Done?” — A Story from the Mirror

Let me tell you a story that brings this thought home.

There was an elderly man named Murthy. He lived alone in a quiet house filled with old photographs and unsaid words. One day, a curious neighborhood boy visited him.

“Uncle, what do you do the whole day?” the boy asked.

Murthy smiled. “I talk to time.”

The boy frowned. “Huh?”

Murthy walked to a shelf and picked up an old black-and-white photo.

“This,” he said, “is me when I graduated top of my class.”

He then pointed to another. “This was when I met the love of my life. We danced in the rain that day.”

Photo after photo, he described memories — some joyful, some painful, but all real.

The boy, still confused, asked, “So you don’t feel bored? Living alone?”

Murthy looked at the clock and replied, “I’ve lived so much that now, I just sit and remember. That’s enough.”

The boy didn’t understand it fully then, but years later, when he stood at Murthy’s empty house after his passing, he whispered, “Now I get it.”

AI Generated

What Is the “What I” Moment?

We all, at some point, confront that silent self-inquiry:

• What have I achieved?

• What legacy will I leave behind?

• What did I miss chasing things that didn’t matter?

And the irony is, many find answers when time is no longer a luxury. When youth fades. When ambition dims. When silence is no longer peaceful but deafening.

We run behind goals, fame, promotions, and numbers. But in the end, all we truly leave behind is a story.

Your story is your "What I" moment.

So write it well.

AI Generated 

Everyone’s Timeline Is Different

Some people achieve greatness at 21. Others bloom at 60. Some support from behind the curtain. Some shine in the spotlight. But no role is smaller than the other.

Think of a movie. The hero may steal the screen, but it’s the supporting cast, the crew, the writer, the editor — all working in tandem — who make the story meaningful.

That’s life. You may not always be the star, but your part is vital.

Even if you only light one lamp in someone’s darkness, you’ve mattered.

AI Generated

Why I Finally Shared This

Back in 2013, I never imagined that I would write blogs or tell stories. I had doubts about my English. I worried if people would laugh at my thoughts. I feared that I’d be labeled too emotional or too abstract.

But over the years, I realized: words are not for validation, they are for expression.

One blog may not change the world.
But it might change someone's world.

AI Generated

TIME… and Legacy

Someday, I may not be here. That’s just reality.
But if someone reads these blogs years later, and smiles — that’s my legacy.
If someone says, “This reminded me of my childhood,” — I’ve succeeded.
If someone wipes a tear or bursts into laughter — I’ve lived, truly.

Your digital words might outlive your physical presence.

So write. Share. Express. Speak.
Because Time is listening.

AI Generated

Final Thoughts: Your TIME Is Now

If you're reading this today, pause for a moment.

Look at your life.

Ask yourself: What have I done that truly mattered?

Don't wait for the perfect time to start something. There's no such thing.
Start with broken words. Hesitant steps. Unpolished emotions.
Start anyway.

Because someday, your “Hi” will meet its “Goodbye.”
And in between, make it count.

Let your memories outlive you.
Let your moments become someone else’s meaning.
Let your TIME… be remembered.

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The Chew-Chew Alarm: A Sparrow's Whisper from the Past

 The Chew-Chew Alarm: A Sparrow's Whisper                                   from the Past

AI Generated

Why does this fellow always go back to the past? Why can’t he just stick to the present?
Fair question. But if you’ve read my blogs, you already know—I believe in time-traveling through memories. The past gives meaning to the present and shows the way to the future. This is not just nostalgia—it's a preservation of soul.

So, let me take you back.

🌳 Flashback: Where Trees Had Names and Birds Had                        Appointments

In front of our small workshop stood two young trees—planted by my father and watered by time. One was a Sampige tree, the other a Copper Pod. Just like me, they grew tall and strong. Over the years, they became our shop's identity.

"Take a right and behind those two big trees is our shop"—that’s how everyone found our place.

Those trees weren't just green umbrellas—they were bird condominiums. Every branch, leaf, and nook housed little nests. And among all the chirping tenants, one little bird ruled the morning routine—the Sparrow.

Every morning, just before my father rolled up the shop shutter, a flurry of tiny wings and familiar chew-chew-chew echoed through the air. Sparrows—like clockwork—would arrive. Waiting. Chirping. Watching. And my father’s first duty? Not the customers, not the machines. It was placing a handful of rice or wheat at the threshold—his daily offering to the sparrow gods.

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🐦 The Bird That Became Background Noise… and Then Vanished

Before smartphones became alarms, sparrows were our natural timekeepers. At 8:30 AM sharp, they'd be there. At 5:30 PM, they'd quietly fade into the trees.

But where are they now?

Gone. Not completely, but barely here. Vanished into the cracks of our growing cities. Smothered by glass buildings, pesticides, and a life too fast for fragile wings.

What breaks me is—children today may grow up without ever hearing a real sparrow call.

AI Generated 

📍 A Sparrow’s Voice from the Sky

That moment—caught in slow traffic while heading to Isha Foundation, Chikkaballapur—I saw them.

Two sparrows. Hopping and fluttering near a roadside house, just left of the highway.

I slowed down. Time slowed down.

And then—I heard them speak.

Sparrow 1:
"Do you remember this place? I think we nested here once… before the wires and the noise."

Sparrow 2:
"I remember. That balcony had old rice grains, the kids used to giggle and run behind us."

Sparrow 1:
"Most of them have flown far—some gone forever. But today, the wind smells like home again."

Sparrow 2:
"Do you think anyone remembers us?"

Sparrow 1:
"Someone just looked at us like we were magic… maybe that’s enough."

Two little birds.
A small moment.
But for me—it was a time machine with wings.

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🏠 More Than Just Birds: A Part of Our Home

The sparrows weren’t just birds. They were unofficial members of our household. I remember sitting on the wooden bench in-front of the shop, wiping my school shoes while watching them hop between fallen leaves. Their sound wasn’t just noise—it was rhythm. Background music to my childhood.

When Amma brought out the rice to dry in the sun, it would become an open buffet for sparrows. No one shooed them away. It was as if they had a right. A tiny one—but respected nonetheless. Their presence meant life. Meant continuity.

🏫 A School Bell in Feathers

In those pre-digital days, there were no phones to check the time. The sun, the rooster, and the sparrow were our daily planners. I remember rushing through my breakfast when the morning chirps intensified—an unofficial signal that it was time to get ready. They were our chew-chew bell that echoed louder than any school siren.

Even at school, we saw them nesting under roof tiles or hidden behind the creaky blackboard in old classrooms. Sometimes, a sudden flutter during silent reading hour would bring a smile across the class. Little joys, unrecorded but unforgettable.

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🏙️ A Present Without Them

Today, in these glass-walled apartments and air-conditioned classrooms, their absence echoes louder than their calls ever did.

Kids now wake up to phone alarms, not feathered ones. They scroll videos of birds they've never seen outside a screen. A sparrow isn’t just vanishing from our cities—it’s slowly disappearing from our childhoods. From memory itself.

That scares me more than I can explain.

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🤝 A Chance for Coexistence

Maybe it’s not too late. Maybe if we plant the right bushes, leave a bowl of water, and stop spraying away every insect, they might return.

Sparrows don’t need five-star birdhouses. Just a crevice, a quiet corner, and a seed or two.

We’ve built towers for ourselves—maybe it’s time we left a branch for them.

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🔍 Know the Sparrow, Save the Sparrow

🐤 Sparrow Facts	📌 Details
Name	House Sparrow (Goraiya / Kuruvi / Chirya / Gubbachi)
Size	Around 16 cm, 30-40 grams
Appearance	Brown with grey/black (males), light brown (females)
Diet	Seeds, grains, insects
Habitat	Urban rooftops, trees, building crevices
Behavior	Social, chirpy, lives in small flocks
Why Disappearing?	Pesticides, urbanization, fewer nesting spots
Cultural Value	Symbol of joy, family, and simplicity

🌱 The Final Chirp

Sparrows, once a symbol of simplicity, warmth, and routine, are now missing characters from the story of our mornings.
But maybe, just maybe, if we listen closely… they’re still whispering.

In the branches.
In the breeze.
In the memories we carry forward.

Because sometimes, the smallest wings carry the heaviest stories.

AI Generated